


Post-Postseason

by hannah_baker



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Reunion Sex, mentions of connor/leon though leon isn't in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker/pseuds/hannah_baker
Summary: It's been eight months since Dylan and Connor have seen each other — since their seasons started. But for some reason, Connor is in Windsor for the Memorial Cup, despite not having to play in it. Dylan isn't turning his nose up at that.





	Post-Postseason

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the fact that Dylan, more and more throughout the season, has looked like he's been dating a vampire who doesn't care very much about him. He just looks like he needs a friend to take care of him, and of course, my heart thinks that friend should be Connor McDavid. 
> 
> Takes place May 19th, 2017.

Dylan tried hard to ignore the discrepancies between his and Connor’s lives at the moment. Dylan was still living off of an OHL stipend, and while he was the captain of a team that won the OHL championship that year, and Connor was the captain of a team that was eliminated from his own playoffs, Dylan would have rather spent his season in the show.

 

Still, it was all he could think about as he stood in the elevator for the hotel room in Windsor the OHL had put him up in. It was nicer than the hotel the Otters were staying at, but Dylan got it. Connor was an NHL superstar, and Dylan was...well, a prospect for one of the worst teams in the league. One of the worst teams and they still didn't want him yet. 

  
Bitterness was an unwelcome flavor on his tongue as he got closer and closer to seeing Connor again, after long, long months apart. He used to so easily think of Connor as “his boy,” or just “his.” But now he was just Connor again. He was someone Dylan couldn’t say for sure was still his best friend. Still the love of his life.

 

The elevator let him out near the top of the building, and he took a left out of it, the way Connor had instructed. Dylan only knew that he should be grateful that Connor was here for the Memorial cup, but he was still anxious about it.

 

He knocked on Connor’s door and smiled when Connor opened it, his hair dirty and messy, bare-chested and in sweats, his toes sticking out the bottoms of his pants. Connor gave him his big smile, easy and relaxed, full teeth, as he pulled Dylan into his hotel room and into a hug.

 

“Dyl,” Connor said into his neck, his shoulders even broader than Dylan remembered, as he tried to hold onto the only boy who had ever really mattered to him in like, a love way. Dylan was sure his body had changed too, but only because he felt like he was wasting away. One of his teammates told him he looked ‘gaunt’ in one of his Instagram stories, and he couldn’t get the word out of his head. “I missed you so much.”

 

Dylan pulled away, but couldn’t stop himself from smoothing a hand over Connor’s hair, taming the tangle it had become just a little. “Ditto,” Dylan said, not wanting to say the words. He had this lingering feeling that even though Connor had missed him, he’d missed Connor more. It made him feel something like shame, even if he couldn’t make that feeling fully make sense in his head.

 

“My OHL Champion,” Connor said, his hands going to Dylan’s waist to pull him close. At any other moment in the past, Dylan would have kissed him without a single thought. Today though, he paused. Connor looked up at him, a question in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

 

Dylan hated hearing that from anyone these days. He was picked third overall two seasons ago, but he was still playing hockey with kids. But he knew Connor didn’t mean it like that, and even more, he didn’t want to talk about it. He leaned down into the kiss to escape talking.

 

He and Connor had never broken up, so to speak. They’d never really been boyfriends either, though. They had just belonged to each other, and kissing Connor made him feel like that hadn’t ended. Connor tasted the same, kissed mostly the same, and Dylan hung onto him, trying to savor this feeling. He knew there would be time this summer to hang out and be together, but the time would be limited, and he didn’t know how exactly their relationship had changed.

 

Connor broke the kiss. “I told myself when you were on the way over that we would talk and catch up before I dragged you to bed, but I don’t think that’s actually possible for me right now,” he said, his eyes full of the lust that Dylan would never turn down.

 

He and Connor had had sex in every possible scenario, as two kids on the same hockey team, sneaking around. They may have been an open secret, but they still didn’t want to get walked in on by teammates. So they’d fucked in some unconventional places. He used to know Connor inside out, completely. The previous season when he’d had his collarbone issues had meant that they could catch up and be together in the midst of hockey. But this season had just been distance, every day. Connor having this special superstar hotel room that he somehow deserved but Dylan didn't, made Connor feel...far away.

 

Dylan didn’t think Connor was having the same thoughts. He pawed at Dylan’s clothes until he cooperated enough to help get them both naked. Dylan snapped himself out of his weird funk in order to get on board. He wasn’t turning his nose up to sex with Connor, even if he still couldn’t think about it as sex with _his boy_. He nipped at Connor’s jaw, and listened to him laugh as Dylan wrestled him onto the bed, the plain white comforter thick and plush enough to almost swallow them.

 

He’d never felt more comfortable with another human being in his entire life, especially naked, which he kind of hated being with other people. His favorite thing to do with Connor was nap naked, tangled up with each other, every inch of Connor’s soft skin available to every inch of Dylan’s. He couldn’t bring himself to do that with anyone else. He climbed on top of Connor and relished the ease with which Connor gave himself over, offered himself up, compliant to Dylan’s touch.

 

Connor couldn’t keep his hands off Dylan. He had his fingers in Dylan’s hair, his hands stroked down Dylan’s arms, his back. He kept his eyes open and stared directly into Dylan’s as Dylan finally pushed into him, Connor open and under him the way they both liked. Dylan had fucked a few guys over the course of the season, but nothing felt like this. This wasn’t just sex. It was them connecting, and the more Connor looked at him, and pulled him closer, and panted his name in his ear, the more he felt like _his_ Connor again. The more things felt maybe normal between the two of them.

 

Even though they'd been on the same team together for months, they hadn’t become close until they had started fucking, when they were sixteen and both scared. Connor had been in the O for a while, but Dylan could see in those teenaged puppy eyes that he was lonely. Dylan had been lonely too. You have a group of guys that are all supposed to be tight, and you have your billet families, but Dylan didn’t feel like he had anything until he had Connor.

 

Early on, they vowed to always take care of each other. And maybe it was because Dylan was a horny teenager at the time, but he hadn’t realized that they took care of each other so specifically like this — the two of them, naked, in bed together.

 

Dylan came quickly. He was surprised at how long he lasted. He wasn’t exactly a stud when it came to reunion sex, and never had been. When he nestled between Connor’s legs to suck him the rest of the way there, Connor’s hands were there, in his hair, hanging on but not controlling anything. He didn’t take his eyes away from Connor’s, watching him crumple after his orgasm, the urgency in his eyes the moments before he came well worn and familiar in Dylan’s memory. Precious.

 

They got under the covers to cuddle, and Connor was still unwilling to ease off on touching Dylan. He tucked his face in Dylan’s neck where he seemed to like to be the best, and reached one hand up to stroke Dylan’s facial hair. “When are we getting rid of this?” he asked, having fallen back to referring to them as one unit so quickly. Dylan knew better to hope for days that stretched out ahead of them like this. He knew Connor had three days in Toronto before he had to be back in Edmonton for an appearance. Dylan knew he couldn’t get lost in Connor when he still had a Memorial Cup to play for.

 

“Now, if you want,” Dylan replied. He hadn’t thought about what was happening on his face (or how bad his bleached hair looked) for weeks. He hadn’t thought about his general physical appearance in...quite some time. Connor wasn’t picky, but if he wanted Dylan’s...what even was it, goatee? shaved off, then shaved it will be, Memorial Cup be damned. It wasn't even really the postseason anymore. More like the post-postseason. He wasn't sure how long hockey superstition demanded this thing still be growing out of his face, honestly. 

 

“I don’t want to get out of bed for it,” Connor said. He was sleepy, probably overworked. Actually, absolutely overworked. Dylan knew it was exhausting to be a regular player in the NHL, not even a star, from watching his brother play. Connor had all of these extra responsibilities and expectations on top of just playing his best. On top of winning the points race, on top of getting his team to the playoffs for the first time in forever.

 

“How long do you think we can stay here?” Dylan asked. “Even with room service, one of us would need to get up and get the food.”

 

“Thanks for taking one for the team on that one,” Connor said, pulling away from Dylan just enough to look at him. Dylan wasn’t used to the blind adoration that came out of Connor’s stares. Not just the lust, but the love. No one else had ever looked at Dylan that way. He leaned in to kiss Connor once more.

 

“Keep using your sexy eyes on me and I’d basically climb a mountain for you,” Dylan mumbled into his lips. He was there with Connor in his arms, Connor pressed skin-to-skin against him, and he still missed him a little. It was a feeling that didn’t dissipate quickly. Or maybe he was already anticipating missing him again. Knowing the feeling was going to creep back up on him sooner rather than later.

 

“That’s why I love you,” Connor said, easy as anything, easy as when they used to say it every day, when Dylan still knew they were in love.

 

“You still love me?” he asked, and watched the love in Connor’s eyes change, confused.

 

“You thought I stopped?”

 

“I just...wasn’t sure.”

 

“Do you still love me?”

 

Dylan didn’t know how to answer that, so he said “of course,” quick and easy, so Connor wouldn’t know he had any doubt. The truth was, he and Connor talked on the phone twice a week at best. They hadn’t had sex with each other in eight months. They agreed it would be too hard to be monogamous when they were playing hockey. It was hard to connect with Connor’s struggles of being under pressure for being the best, when he was still just trying to shine enough to prove he could make it in the show.

 

He couldn’t talk to Connor about how lonely he was. Not anymore.

 

Connor kissed him, though, because Connor trusted him. Connor believed him.

 

“Are you taking care of yourself?” Connor asked him. That was one thing they’d promised each other. It was another question Dylan couldn’t answer easily. This time though, he didn’t have anything to say. He wasn’t taking care of himself. Connor had always done that for him. He didn’t really know how to now.

 

“Okay, then is someone else taking care of you?” There was no jealousy in the question. Connor really wanted there to be someone in Dylan’s daily life who gave a shit about him. Dylan was embarrassed that he couldn’t even tell Connor that he was worthy of someone else’s time, someone else’s caring.

 

“Not exactly,” Dylan said, because it hurt a little less than just saying “no.” It hurt less than telling Connor about his one night stands, about the guy he dated for a couple weeks who only wanted to fuck him when Dylan was on his knees, facing away, who yelled at him until he cried. He didn't have anyone who could hold him. “Is someone else taking care of you?” he asked back.

 

“I’ve told you about Leon,” Connor said.

 

“Oh. I guess I didn’t realize that that-” ‘ _That_ ’ being the sex he knew Connor and his teammate Leon Draisaitl were having, “was like…” _was like us_ was the part he couldn’t say.

 

“Yeah,” Connor said, softly. He paused. “He’s good to me.”

 

“Well, good,” Dylan said, biting his lower lip. He reached his hand up to stroke Connor’s cheek, cup his jaw. He knew the pressure Connor was under. He knew that Connor needed that stability of having someone there for him, and having that person be, you know, there, physically, in the same city as him. The same room. The same bed. He knew he shouldn’t feel hurt. He absolutely knew he couldn’t be mad. “Do you love him?” he asked. It was the last question on the face of the planet he wanted to know the answer to, so he wasn’t exactly sure why he was asking, outside of the fact that it had become increasingly clear to himself over the past season that he didn’t have the full capacity to care about himself anymore.

 

“Not the way I love you,” Connor said, which cut to Dylan’s heart. That was...not a no. That was nowhere close to a no. He hadn’t said ‘yes,’ but he’d meant it.

 

“Are you in love with him?” Dylan asked, trying not to think of all the games of Connor’s he’d watched where Connor and Leon sat next to each other on the bench. All the times he’d seen Connor drink out of Leon’s water bottle, wear his clothes, the number twenty-nine over his heart. Dylan had watched Connor’s interview earlier that night during the first Memorial Cup game, when he’d talked about how much fun it had been toward the end of the season to play with Leon, to try to get them both as many points as possible.

 

“No.” Connor’s denial wasn’t very convincing, but Dylan wanted so badly to be convinced, so he let it go. He’d hold onto that ‘no’ for as long as he could.

 

“You wanna help me shave this off?” Dylan asked, pulling on his own dumb facial hair in a desperate attempt to change the subject. That finally got Connor to smile. Dylan would do anything for that smile. They both pulled on pairs of Connor’s sweats and Connor ushered him into the hotel bathroom. 

 

Connor sat him down on the toilet and buzzed his goatee thing down to stubble with his trimmer, so Dylan could shave it. He was careful, sweet about it, and practiced. He’d done this before for Dylan in post seasons past. Subconsciously, it was probably the reason why Dylan still had this gross mess on his face. He was waiting for Connor McDavid to fix it for him, like he fixed everything else in Dylan’s life.

 

Connor broke out a new razor from his toiletry bag for him to shave himself smooth with, and stood next to him, chatting about how he was going to go up to the GTA to see his parents for dinner that Sunday, and how he wanted Dylan to come with him, if his Cup schedule allowed. He couldn’t help but think about whether or not Leon had met Connor’s mom before. Connor’s mom was kind of his mom too, and Kelly wasn’t someone he was willing to share, even if he had to share Connor. That was a question he knew better than to ask.

  
When he was done and smooth, Connor dried his face off for him with a fluffy towel and covered his cheeks and chin with happy kisses. “There’s my Dyl,” he whispered, leaning against the bathroom counter and pulling Dylan close to him. Connor was warm and still smelled like sex, and Dylan didn’t know what to do other than to kiss him back, hold him tight.

 

When he caught a glimpse of them together in the bathroom mirror he looked like himself again, for the first time in a long time. And he didn’t know if that was because he’d finally shaved his playoff beard off, or if it was because Connor was currently attached to him, lips on his collarbone, sucking a hickey that Dylan knew wouldn't last nearly long enough for his own tastes.

 

Maybe he only could truly be the person he thinks he is around Connor, which was a grim diagnosis considering the fact that they both planned on having long hockey careers. But Dylan wasn’t an idiot. Even if what he had with Connor was fleeting, it was true. It had to be true. But all he could do at this point was let Connor drag him back to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> The last fic I posted was a little over a year ago, and was the sweetest bit of Dylan and Connor I could probably ever come up with. This is not that. It's been a long hockey season for this McStrome shipper, to say the least.


End file.
